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IT'S A THING

Gene Simmons eats breakfast, Dr. Phil leaves his lair, and New Yorkers take a seat

Gene Simmons attended the world premiere Of Disney's “Maleficent: Mistress Of Evil" at the El Capitan Theatre in Los Angeles on Sept. 30, 2019.
Gene Simmons attended the world premiere Of Disney's “Maleficent: Mistress Of Evil" at the El Capitan Theatre in Los Angeles on Sept. 30, 2019.Frazer Harrison/Getty Images

CEREAL KILLER

It’s a new year! And for 2020, I’m hoping that all of us on the Internet can together resolve to not get so caught up in trivial nonsense and instead refocus our energy on addressing things that really matter. And we can start that right after we discuss the fact that Gene Simmons from KISS puts ice cubes in his cereal. “Anyone else put ice cubes in their cereal?” posted Simmons, along with a pic of an icy hybrid bowl of Oreo O’s and (figuratively) Frosted Mini-Wheats. “No, absolutely no one else does this,” replied Globe correspondent Tanya Edwards, factually. Others helpfully suggested employing something called a “refrigerator” to chill one’s cereal milk. And others just tried their best to cope: “30 years," posted Simmons’s son, Nick. "30 years watching him do this. This is my life.”

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DESIGN WITHIN RETCH

If your plans for the new year include giving your home a fresh look, might I recommend averting your eyes from the listing for Dr. Phil’s house? It just went up on the market for $5.75 million, and it’s gonna be a bit of a fixer-upper — or maybe a burner-downer. The 6,170-square-foot home features a massive great room that appears to be in the process of slowly being swallowed by squid tentacles, a modest dining room festooned with assault weapons, some truly ghastly light fixtures, and dozens of other indications that we should not be taking advice on life choices from this man. But hey, some of you might really dig the whole Wayfair warehouse acid trip aesthetic. To arrange a consult with Dr. Phil’s interior designer, simply say “Beetlejuice” three times.

SAY NO MORE

And while we’re talking fresh starts, you know what would be absolutely everything? If we could purge our vocabularies of annoying slang from the 2010s that no longer slaps. It’s called adulting and it gives me all the feels. So I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if this has you shook, I am here for it. And for those of you who have already cleansed your lexicon of these noxious cliches well ahead of the new decade, I have no choice but to stan. I think you’re literally amazeballs. (OK, I think that covers everything.)

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WELL TRAINED

And in relatable content this week, NYC Twitter users squabbled over which seat is the best one on the subway, and while “whichever one isn’t inexplicably wet” seems like the most sensible answer, a surprising range of preferences were expressed — one seat offers a view of the whole train, another grants easy escape from it should some unpleasantness go down, others prevent the potential for seatmates, and others enable sleep. When it comes to making the choice for most luxurious seat on our own MBTA, the answer is clear: I just use the one with the little curtain and all the blinking buttons. You just have to yell out the stops.

MICHAEL ANDOR BRODEUR